Brynn's Diary: Rewrite
by AmethystWren
Summary: Captain Brynneth of the Brightvale Guard. One day, it will be a name recognised all across Neopia as that of a brave heroine. For now, it's just the dream of a little kougra. Starts with Brynn's first week in the Guard, when she's seven, and will progress until she's eighteen. Re-write of Brynn's Diary.
1. The Month of Sleeping- First Year

**Re-reading Brynn's Diary, I found myself literally head-desking more than once. It. Is. _Atrocious_! I can do better, I'm sure of it. That's why I'm uploading this re-write. The plan is, once this catches up with the original, to take BD no. 1 down from the site and keep this one up.**

**For the record, some of the sentences in this chapter could be worded better. I swear that's intentional; she's _seven_! As clever as kids from Brightvale are (Brightvalean? Brightvalish? I don't know.), she still talks like a kid. Therefore, she probably writes like one.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Brynn, Brightvale, Hanso, or any other Neopian characters and locations. Nor do I own anyone who crops up from Hanso's Journal- they're property of Reese S. Quill. However, my OCs are mine.**

* * *

The Month of Sleeping (January) At age 7

Week 1

It's now, officially, the last night of my first _ever_ week in the Brightvale Guard. I've wanted to join for _so_ long, and I've been pestering Mum for literally as long as I can remember. When she finally relented last month (Christmas Day, too! Like a present!), I was more than a little shocked. Still, I can't complain. It's what I wanted, after all.

I didn't think it'd be fun and games; I knew it would be tough. I mean, you have to use a sword, and chase thieves and stuff. I just never thought it would be so much hard work so soon!

Also, I can't wait to go on patrol. That's where all the exciting stuff happens. This week has been training which, even though my teacher says I'm good at it, gets kind of repetitive real quick. Besides, it was a guard on patrol that made me want this job so badly in the first place!

I was about two or three, but I remember it so clearly. Two terrifying men- really tall, with yellow teeth and tiny eyes with no sparkle to them whatsoever- appeared in front of us. Sounds crazy, but they literally jumped out of _nowhere_. They told Mum to give them her purse, or they'd 'hurt the little girlie'. That was me, by the way.

Mum held my hand and tried not to look scared, but I knew she was. _I_ certainly was! And I'm not really scared of _anything_.

The two kept pressing the matter, and being tall and scary, when a woman wearing the green and white of the Brightvale Guard pushed between them from behind them. She wasn't very tall, but she made up for it by standing straight, and the way her hand rested on the hilt of the sword in her belt proved she could use it. Well.

"Alright, boys," She said to the thieves either side. "Are we going to break this up? Or do I have to bring in Mr. Handcuffs?" She looked at me and grinned. I suppressed a smile of my own as the two thieves stared at her with such a confused expression.

"I'm going to count to three." She raised one hand from her hilt, held it above her head. "One…" She raised a finger. "Two…" A second finger. "Three!"

"Leg it!" One thief shouted to his partner, who didn't need to be told twice. The two dashed off, lost in the busy crowds of the market place.

The yellow zafara asked Mum if she was okay. "You're trembling, Ma'am. That's probably shock. I'd recommend the hot chocolate, if I'm honest; that seems to do a good job of restoring your senses."

Mum merely nodded numbly in response and squeezed my hand slightly tighter.

The guard woman knelt down, so that she was about the same height as me, and smiled reassuringly.

"You don't really understand what's going on, do you?" She asked gently.

I shook my head because, at the time, I didn't. When you're little, Mum can defeat anyone and anything, and seeing her so scared was the strangest thing. "Tell you what, kid. I have a very important job for you."

My ears perked up. "Really?" I asked eagerly.

She nodded. "You need to make sure to look after your Mummy for me. She's a little shaken up, okay?"

I nodded.

It all happened ever so long ago, but I remember it all so clearly. And it's annoying, because I never even knew that woman's name, yet she inspired me to be sitting in this chair in the Training Guard Base canteen.

So, that's my mission, Diary. I'm going to find out that woman's name. And maybe I'll even get to meet her, and thank her in person for everything she's done.

Week 2

Today, my teacher Mr. Lockwood said we don't get to go on patrol for a few months. _Months_?! How am I going to last that long?!

I'm not even allowed a proper sword yet, although having seen some of the kids in my age bracket, I can understand why. We've got wooden ones, instead. Some kids who've been here longer have blunted metal ones, which Mr. Lockwood said is the next step up.

I'm in the youngest age bracket, 6-10 year olds. Then it's 11-15, 16-18, and then they make you a proper guard after that.

We have to share rooms, except they're called 'dormitories', which sounds weird. I have to share mine with an usul girl called Violet. She's really girly. All the time, she's rambling on about hair, and dresses, and it's so _annoying_.

Week 3

There's a lupe in the 11-15 age bracket (the lower end of it, though) called Harry who's been being so _frustrating_! He seems to have decided that I make an excellent person to be mean to, and tease constantly, and it's very annoying.

I can't help but think maybe I brought this on myself.

We were in the lunch hall, eating. I was sitting on the same table as Violet and her friends, only half-listening to the shoe-related conversation that they were having, when Harry and his gang of annoying people showed up.

"Move." He told a girl called Sharon, who was sitting beside Violet and across from me. "I want to sit there."

"You can't just do that, Harry." Violet grumbled. "Not here."

"I've been here longer than you, Adonai," He pointed out smugly. "I think I know more about how things work here." He looked at Sharon pointedly. "Move it."

"Don't." I told Sharon.

Harry glared at me from behind Violet. "Who asked you?"

"I'm standing up for the right thing." I said coolly, even if inside I was trembling like a leaf in a strong wind. "Isn't that what you're _supposed_ to do in the Guard?"

He laughed, and the rest of his gang joined in, safe for a red-headed kyrii hanging out at the back of the group. "You got a name, Tiny?"

Violet rolled her eyes dramatically. "Harry!"

"Shh, Adonai, I asked her a question. I'm sure someone so chivalrous can answer herself." Somehow, he made 'chivalrous' sound like an insult.

"Brynn." I replied.

"Surname?"

"Chevalier."

Sharon's eyes widened. "Your mum, she's the one who washes clothes, isn't she? For people in Lower Brightvale?"

I nod. Because she'd always been so occupied with raising and looking after me, and since Dad went missing in a boating accident and never returned, Mum washes and mends clothes for the poorer citizens of Brightvale. We're not so well of herself, and I want to change that, and buy her a fairytale house like I know she's always wanted.

Harry snorts. "Paupers."

"Rich kid." I retort. "Scat."

He glared at me. "You've crossed a line, Chevalier. And you _will_ regret it."

So you could sort of say I deserve this, but it's been going on for a week now, and I'm sick of it. I just wish, so much right now, that they'd stop pestering me!

I'd ask Mr. Lockwood for help- he seems to like me, since I'm so 'promising' in sword practice- but Harry's told me that I can't tell any grown-ups.

"Things will start breaking." He said warningly. I have little enough as it is. Anything from home breaking would be irreplaceable until my next birthday in October, and breaking anything that was already here- including my wooden practice sword- means I'll have to play a replacement fee, considering there's no way I can think of to prove Harry did it. His gang will lie to save his neck, I'm sure of it.

Week 4

They still persist; in fact they seem to be getting even bolder as each day passes. Today, he pulled my chair from underneath me while I was eating soup, and I spilled it all over myself. And trust me, it took at least an hour in the shower to rinse it out of my hair.

We got to write letters home today. I was scared of writing anything that could get me into more trouble with Harry (as my mum _is_ a grown-up) so I missed that out.

I told her almost everything else. I wrote about the plastic swords, and Violet, and how I'll find out what the name of that zafara lady was for her. It's sort of my secret goal right now. I like having goals; it gives you something to strive for.

I gave it to Mr. Lockwood. He commented on how neat my handwriting is for someone so young, and I told him I've had a lot of practice. I didn't mention that that 'practice' is writing life down in a diary every week, but, then, I didn't really need to.

Mr. Lockwood is nice. He doesn't talk to us like we're stupid just because we're the youngest training guards here. Most fully fledged guards do, and it's quickly becoming very annoying. I mean, I'm not three years old! I'm _seven_! I appreciate being talked to like I'm my age, not far younger.

Wait, there's the bell… That means I have five minutes to get to sword practice, and I completely forgot! It'd explain the mysterious lack of Violet; she must've snuck out while I was writing! Sneaky little… What am I doing? I have to get moving!

* * *

**Little game: Anyone spot 'the draik man' in this? I figured I'd just dump his name in from the start, in this rewrite :D**


	2. The Month of Awakening- First Year

The Month of Awakening (February) at 7 years of age

Week 1

Last night, neither Violet nor I could sleep. _She_ just wasn't tired- far from it. She spent half the night talking to me! And _I_ couldn't sleep because, well, I'm not sure. I was _definitely_ tired. But no matter how long I lay down with my eyes closed, I just couldn't drift off! Whenever I thought maybe, just maybe, I was falling asleep this time, Violet would start talking, and I'd immediately be wide awake once more.

We did, eventually, get to sleep. I don't know what ridiculous time in the morning it was, but I felt like I'd been out for no more than ten minutes when something hit me in the side of the head.

I bolted upright and looked around. Violet was standing by my bedside, her pillow (which is what she'd just smacked me with) still in her hands.

"We've overslept!" She explained, sounding slightly panicked. "My alarm didn't go off; we've missed breakfast, and training starts in-"

I looked over at the clock across the room, on her bedside table, and groaned. "Ten minutes."

"Exactly."

We got dressed into our training uniforms (black leggings, and a green t-shirt with the white stripe down the middle- pretty comfy, I have to say), and grabbed our wooden swords, practically running to the training hall. Several people gave us displeased looks as we sprinted past them, but no-one stopped us, thankfully.

When we got to the hall, the rest of our age bracket were already standing around Mr. Lockwood in a semi-circle, listening to his instructions. Violet and I tried to shuffle over as quietly as we could to join them, without drawing much attention to ourselves, but our teacher noticed us and said loudly,

"It's nice of you to finally join us, girls."

"Sorry, Mr. Lockwood." I apologised on the behalf of both of us, as it didn't look like Violet was planning on saying anything.

He shook his head disapprovingly. "Stand with the others."

We did so gladly. I found my eyes became fixated on my boots, and felt heat rising to my cheeks. Everyone's eyes were on me and Violet. If there's anything I've learned in my month here so far, it's that you are _not_ late to training. Ever.

Still, I listened as our teacher continued his briefing, even if my eyes remained firmly on the floor.

"Mr. Lockwood," Violet called from beside me.

I glanced upwards, at our teacher. Violet had interrupted him mid-sentence but, rather than lose his temper, he merely forced a smile and looked at her.

"Yes, Violet?" He asked.

"What are those for?" She asked, pointing.

My eyes followed her finger, settling on a large metal crate that reminded me somewhat of a cage. Inside it, there were several heavy-looking hunks of wood with even heavier-looking spiked metal balls attached to the end.

"If you were here on time, Violet," Our teacher's voice made it evident he still wasn't pleased with our lack of punctuality. "You would _know_ what they are." He sighed, but still, he answered her question anyway; "They're maces."

"Why are they there?" She pressed.

Mr. Lockwood looked like he wanted to head-butt a wall. Luckily, he has a lot of self restraint, and settled with merely rolling his eyes instead. "Though our most notorious weapon is the sword, not _every_ Guard is an expert in wielding it. Therefore, we are to train you in several different types of weaponry. This will give each of you the opportunity to choose the weapon best suited to you and your fighting style when you're old enough to do so."

Because, unlike our wooden swords, they were _actual_ maces, we weren't allowed to fight each-other today.

When I write that down, it looks really bad. I don't mean it to sound terrible! It's just… Once the excitement of handling a new weapon fades away, you're left feeling a little… _Bored_…

Anyway, I'm getting ahead of myself.

Mr. Lockwood ordered us to stand in a line and took one of the maces from the crate. Taking the trembling hand of the girl in the front of our class' row (a disco zafara who looked like she'd rather be _anywhere_ else at that moment in time) and pressing the wooden handle into her palm, he wrapped her fingers round it and gently nudged her out of the way, turning to get another mace to hand to the boy behind her.

This whole process took about two seconds.

About two minutes after her first started, all twenty of us in our age group were kitted out with a weapon. I had to hold it in both hands- as did most people- and even then the fear of dropping it onto my foot was always present. Their appearance was no façade; they were _heavy_!

"The mace," Mr. Lockwood explained, effortlessly holding his so that the spiked ball rested just behind his shoulder, "Isn't as graceful a weapon as the sword. Your aim with this weapon wouldn't be to strike at your opponent from the side, but to smash into them with these spikes. Remembering that we don't kill people unless strictly nessacary, it's best to avoid hitting the head, chest, or anywhere else where vital organs are. If you destroy those, you've almost certainly killed your opponent. And, as I said, we don't do that in the Guard unless it's as a last resort."

There was a sound from somewhere behind me; forced, sickening. I turned to find one the girls- a green nimmo with black hair pulled back in a messy bun- who joined the same week as me with her hand over her mouth. A few more forced, gagging sounds later, and she'd been sick on the floor.

Mr. Lockwood tossed his mace into the crate with a form of careless precision I'm sure few people have and hurried over to her, taking the weapon from her hands and giving it to a worried-looking quiggle standing beside her; one of the older boys in our age bracket.

"Go back to your dormitories!" Our teacher told us, using the corner of his tunic to wipe the vomit from around the girl's mouth. "Put your weapons back in the crate first."

We did as we were told, too shocked to protest.

* * *

In our dorm, I asked Violet what she was going to do. We had the whole day, except for lunch and dinner at least, free to do what we liked.

"Catch up on sleep." She muttered, pulling her boots off and throwing them into the corner of the room. I think it must've been the first time I've seen her abuse shoes before. "Wake me when it's lunch-time."

And she just, sort of, _collapsed_ face-first onto her bed. She didn't even bother to get changed out of her uniform, or take her dark hair out of its ponytail. There's fifteen minutes until lunch... Maybe I'll go check out the library or something.

Week 2

Today, it's Valentines Day. I've never much seen the point in it. If you love someone, why just show it _one_ day of the year? Surely you're meant to do that every day. In all my memories of Dad, however faint the majority of them may be, he was always picking Mum up while she was cooking and twirling her round the room. She'd pretend to be angry, but she wasn't really, and we all knew it.

Anyway, my point is that he did that _every_ day, as far as I can remember. Not just once a year. You can't love someone very much if you're only nice to them once a year, I think.

Somewhat scarily, people in _my_ age bracket had Valentines cards and chocolates! Surely they should be making the most of being kids, right? Why the heck would you miss out on running through woods, and staining your hands looking for berries in the thorny bushes. Mum used to take me out to go berry hunting every Sunday. It's a tradition I miss.

I ended up staying my dormitory most of the day (outside training, of course), to escape that 'love in the air' feeling that seemed to be everywhere else. Much to my surprise, Violet seemed to have a similar sort of notion as she spent most of the day trying her hair in different styles rather than hanging out with her friends. Maybe she's not so bad as I once thought.

In other news, Mr. Lockwood pulled me aside after training this afternoon. Of course, I assumed I'd been caught accidentally breaking the rules; there are so many, and I'm still learning the ropes. Or perhaps this was about being late last week? Though surely he'd want to speak to Violet, too? I was so _confused_!

The good news is no, that's not what he wanted to talk to me about (thank Fyora!), the bad news is I actually have no idea what in Neopia he _did_ want to tell me. Or, rather, question me.

"What's your favourite season, Brynneth?" He asked.

"Um, summer." I replied, a little unsure of where this was heading.

He nodded thoughtfully and jotted something down in a big A4 notebook. He's had it out a lot, the last few weeks, and makes notes on everything we do in it. Someone spread a rumour that he's a spy, and he's going to give it to the thieves. I can't see that, but it's all very mysterious nonetheless.

Anyway, he noted that down and then looked over the rim of the pages, at me, again.

"And your favourite colour?" He questioned.

"Green…"

"Mine, too." He grinned, noting it down.

I stood there quietly for a moment, debating whether or not it was a good idea to ask what he was up to. In the end, I decided it was; just so I could put all those weird rumours about spies to rest, in my mind at least. No matter what I were to tell the others, some of them will not change their mind once it's fixed. "What's this for, Mr. Lockwood?"

His pen paused, seemingly mid-word from where I was standing. Giving me a reassuring smile, he replied "You'll see."

I hate surprises. This had better not be a big, 'exciting' one.

Week 3

King Hagan paid us a surprise visit this week! From the way the older kids and guards alike were dashing about, trying to make everything perfect, I doubt it happens often. As 'King Hagan's Elite Brightvale Guard', I'd have thought it happened kinda frequently. Still, despite the apparent lack of visits, he seems nice; nowhere near as uppity as I always thought a king would be, anyway.

He watched us in sword practice this afternoon, and I don't think he realised I was still disassembling my armour in the corner of the room. The rest of the class had gone already, but my shoulder plate was stuck in an awkward position and I was having difficulty getting to the strap beneath my armpit. King Hagan took Mr. Lockwood to one side and said that our class was 'promising', but 'unmotivated'.

"Do they have their partners, yet?" He asked our teacher, sounding slightly bored, but still, somehow, interested. It was very peculiar, and you had to have been there to get my point.

Mr. Lockwood had that expression on his face, and that tone to his voice, that made it look like he wanted to head-butt a wall. Again. "Finding partners is a timely process, as we have to weigh up each strength and each weakness of _every_ individual and locate someone who balances them out."

King Hagan didn't look too convinced, and raised an eyebrow, forcing Mr. Lockwood to continue.

"I mean, look at Samuel and Theresa. It took a long while to pair those to up, and even longer to assure Miss Fatale that it was worth it."

The king shook his head. "You should've locked the woman up."

"Not while Sam was there. Not at that age."

I have no idea who Samuel or Theresa are, but King Hagan certainly does. He and Mr. Lockwood chatted about the two like they're old friends of theirs. Maybe they are.

Week 4

The proper guards had some sort of meeting today, so training was called off. I planned to spend the day practising my sword skills in my room, but Violet had other plans which, annoyingly, seemed to involve me.

"There are _gardens_, Brynn!" She told me excitedly. "The Guard base has _gardens_!"

"I know." I responded bluntly. Because I did; I just never really thought they sounded terribly interesting.

Still, with Sharon and the others busy testing hairstyles on each-other (I'm actually surprised my room-mate didn't want to join them), there was no-one else for Violet to drag outside with her.

It was warm, for the time of year. Albeit very blustery, though if Violet noticed, she didn't show it.

As much as I hate to admit it, her happiness was contagious. It wasn't long before we were both running down the paths alongside the flowerbeds, laughing like we're friends. Are we? I don't know.

Being that spring's not really started yet, the flowerbeds were either bare or littered with tiny green shoots. For the most part.

We were standing still, re-gaining our breaths after all that running, when Violet grabbed my arm with one hand and pointed at something with her other. "Brynn, _look_! It's a crocus!"

And, indeed, it was. A beautiful purple one.

"Crocuses are my mother's _favourite_ flower." She said proudly. "And then it's white roses."

"My Mum likes forget-me-nots." I responded quietly.

Her face screwed up slightly as she tried to remember the flower. Then, recognition dawned on her features. "Oh, _I_ know! The little purple ones!" I nodded. "We have some of those at home! They get on Father's nerves, because they're weeds and they just keep coming _back_, but I always thought they were pretty. And Ebony, he said- Oh, Ebony's my brother- and _he_ said that they were 'hardy', which he said means they can withstand _anything_."

Long story short; Violet's not that bad. Not that bad at-

She's got my training sword. I have to go rescue it. Bye!


	3. The Month of Running- First Year

**I re-wrote this chapter _again_. That is why it has taken so long. I was like "I could... But that doesn't fit with... NYAH I WILL JUST RE-WRITE IT ALL!" So that is what happened.**

**Also, the 'little game' for this chapter, should you wish to play, is called "Who can spot all the references to the guys in the Rebellion from the original _Brynn's Diary_?". Or WCSATRTTGITRFTO_BD_? for short...**

**That abbreviation looks almost as long as the actual title...**

* * *

The Month of Running (March) age 7

Week 1

It's a very suitable name for the month. This week we've been 'increasing our stamina', to write it as our teacher put it. Mr. Lockwood said that the best fighting skills in the world were worthless if we didn't have the stamina to last us through long battles.

So he took us out onto the enormous field at the back of the base, to the running track, and made us run laps. For _ages_. I'm pretty fast, luckily, but not the fastest. That honour fell to a shy, mousy friend of Sharon and Violet's called Sonia. I might like her, if she didn't give me the creeps quite so much. She has a scary, toothy smile, and I can't stand it.

I quickly found that being fast isn't very useful in long battles. After four laps, I felt like I was going to collapse. Mr. Lockwood was still standing by the starting line, urging us to keep running every time someone started to lag. But there was a stitch in my side, and my legs felt like they might give way.

Violet, ever filled with energy, grabbed my hand as she went past and dragged me along with her.

"Just try to keep up with me!" She explained as she carried on jogging. "The trick is to start slow and gradually get faster."

"Did your brother teach you that?" I panted as I fell into step with her. She was right; jogging was much easier to handle than however many miles per hour I'd started off at.

She gave me a sideways look before shaking her head. "No. Ebony doesn't really do much stuff like that. It was my cousin, actually. She's _sixteen_."

She didn't elaborate on that, and I didn't ask her to.

Every lap, we got a little bit faster, so that when we were actually running as fast as I was at the start, it wasn't anywhere near as painful or tiring.

"Come in, everyone!" Mr. Lockwood called after… Eight laps, I think. We all jogged over and stood around him as he counted quickly to make sure we were all there.

Then, he brought that big A4 notebook out again and started to scribble notes on what I can only assume was our running capabilities into it.

"Sophia, Rebecca and…" He squinted slightly at whatever he'd got noted down before him. "Jack, can I please speak to you? The rest of you are free to spend the day as you wish. Try not to disturb anyone!"

* * *

I spent the afternoon drawing swirling patterns on the front of this diary. As much as I love the green cover, it's a little plain, and I had nothing better to do.

When Violet noticed what I was doing, she stopped braiding her hair and dived under her bed, re-emerging a few seconds later with a box of coloured pens.

"Use these." She suggested, putting them down on the bed beside me. "My aunt says I should draw things, but I find it ever so dull. The only reason I took them here with me is because my cousin threatened to lock me in the shed if I didn't."

"The sixteen year old one?" I remembered from earlier.

She shook her head. "No, the other one. Ivy. She's _horrible_."

"Are you sure you don't mind?" I checked anxiously. They were a very nice pen set, and I was kind of worried I might break them or something.

Violet waved a hand dismissively. "It's either the pretty colours, or you're stuck with boring black."

"I thought the swirls looked quite pretty in black."

"But black's so _boring_." She groaned. Then, her face broke out into a grin. "Double-meaning!" And then she burst out giggling.

She can be one _strange_ girl sometimes.

Still, I thanked her and used the pens anyway. Only one or two though, so I didn't feel as guilty. I'm not even sure _why_ I felt so bad; Violet had practically forced them onto me, so if anything, _she_ should be the one feeling guilty. I doubt she was; once she'd braiding her hair into two plaits, she started jumping up and down on her bed.

I used black and gold. They seem to go quite well with green.

Week 2

Today, I was bored. Very, _very_ bored.

In training, rather than swords (I honestly miss sword practice; we haven't had it for three whole days now!) we were doing fist fights. Mr. Lockwood made us get mats out to put on the floor, so that if you fell backwards you weren't likely to break any bones on the hard surface, and partnered us up.

He stuck me with this lupe called Luke, who is six, though he told me that because his birthday is next week, he isn't actually that much younger than me. Either way, I felt bad; he's a good deal shorter than me, too, and I didn't want to hurt him.

Mr. Lockwood ran through technique with us, including this handy tip about where you put your thumb when you make a fist. If you put it over the front, which is where most of us did when he told us to make a fist and show him, then you're more likely to break your knuckles. Or maybe your thumb? You're more likely to break _something, _and it's best to avoid that if you can help it.

Safety procedures in place, he told us to try a few of the skills he'd explained on our partners. I managed to avoid the first few punches Luke threw, but then he punched me in the stomach, and I flew backward (there was a scary amount of time where literally my _whole_ body was in the air) and landed on the mat, smacking my head really hard against it.

Considering this mat thing was supposed to be soft, it hurt a hell of a lot.

Mr. Lockwood was kneeling by my side pretty quickly, helping me up. Luke just stood there, shuffling his feet awkwardly and refusing to look at anyone.

"Are you alright?" Our teacher asked. I nodded. "Did you hit your head?" Again, I nodded.

He helped me to my feet before turning to Luke.

"Could you take Brynneth to the medical room, please, Mr. Leof?"

Luke glanced up at our teacher from beneath his dark fringe. "_Fine_." He huffed, stalking off. Mr. Lockwood looked at me pointedly and I hurried after the lupe, falling into step with him just as we exited the hall.

The nurse in the medical room today was nice. They have a rota; it's written on the door, as you enter, so that you know which nurse to expect. It said her name was 'Flora Evenfall', which I think is quite pretty. It matched her, too; grey eyes, honey-blonde hair... She looked like a Flora Evenfall, if that makes any sense.

"What's happened?" She asked as we stood nervously in front of her, unsure of the procedure as we'd never been sent to the medical room before.

"I hit my head." I explained, at the same time Luke said 'I hit her'.

She made a 'tsk' sort of noise, but she was smiling, so I guess she didn't disapprove all that much. "You'd better come and sit down, hadn't you?"

Flora Evenfall put an arm round my shoulder and led me through a white door, to a smaller room with chairs going all round the edge. Three of those chairs were taken, but the other six or so weren't.

"Just sit down for a little while, dear," Flora Evenfall told me mock-sternly. I grinned and promised I would, taking a seat.

Luke poked his head round the door just as Flora Evenfall walked out of it, causing her to jump out of her skin and put a hand over her heart.

"Fyora! You almost have me a heart attack!"

"Sorry." Luke mumbled sheepishly.

"You can go sit with her, if you haven't been told to go straight back." She told him.

Luke stalked in and practically fell into the seat next to me. He didn't say anything, and neither did I. We just sat in this strange, awkward sort of silence.

I looked up and surveyed the other three people in the room. One was an older boy, holding an ice pack to his shoulder. Then there was a girl craned over at a strange angle, biting her tongue in concentration whilst she tried to wipe the blood from a graze on her knee using an anti-septic wipe. And, finally, there was a guy who was asleep sitting up.

We must've been there for hours, and _no-one_ spoke. At _all_. The girl with the grazed knee left first, once her knee had stopped bleeding. Then it was the icepack guy. Flora Evenfall let him take it with him, and told him to keep it there for the rest of the day.

"Though remember to move your shoulder often," She instructed, "Rotate it in circles or something. Otherwise it'll be agony when you wake up tomorrow."

And then we got to leave. The guy in the corner, by this point, had started snoring, which made Luke snicker. But didn't make him talk.

By that time, training was over, so I headed to the library. The Guard library is _enormous_, and you become a member just by being in the Guard (or, in my case, Training Guard).

I found myself this book about a lady who saves kadoties off of the street and raises them. It's a little boring, and slow, but it makes me smile, so I'll finish it.

Week 3

Harry. Stole. My. Pen.

During breakfast. I had it in my hand, drumming it absent-mindedly on the table. Usually, I leave it in my dorm, but I forgot to put it down when I'd finished adding swirls to the front cover (it's become something I do when I'm bored without much thought), and by the time I realised I was still holding it I couldn't go put it back. Well, I _could_, but then I'd get to the dining hall to find that all the good food's already gone.

He just walked past, slipped it from my hand, and carried on strolling by in a perfectly innocent sort of way. Like he _didn't_ just steal my pen. Idiot.

So, that is why this is being written in red ink. When I told Violet what happened, she dug out her fancy coloured pen set and practically threw this one at me.

"Write in red!" She ordered.

Staring at the pen, which I'd somehow managed to catch mere inches away from my face, I replied with, "But… I write in my diary with black pen. _That_ black pen."

She huffed, and now she's staring at the wall. I'm not quite sure what she's… Oh dear. She's just walked out. I'm going to go after her.

_Later…_

Before I start, do _not_ ask me how Violet knows her way around the boys' dormitories. The corridor on the other side of the base (there's the girls' corridor on the right of the complex, and the boys on the left- for obvious reasons, they're split), and until about fifteen minutes ago I'd never been there.

Violet, however, located Harry's dorm amongst the others very quickly. I'd say that's rather suspicious, but I won't press the matter. Not just because doing so would likely result in her killing of me, but also because I'm not sure I want to know.

Once Violet had located Harry's dorm, she knocked, just to be sure. If it turned out she'd picked the wrong room, and ran in yelling at a guy called 'Harry', it'd have been terribly embarrassing for her. Funny for me, but that's besides the point.

The door was opened by a shoyru, who looked like he'd just got out of bed. His red-blond hair was all messed up on one side of his head, and he was wearing red-and-blue checked pyjamas.

"_Girls_…" He noticed, confused. "Are you lost?"

"Oh…" Violet looked at the floor for a moment, embarrassed. "We were looking for Harry. Do you know where his dormitory is?" She can sound very sweet when she wants to; her voice was so filled with innocence that if I didn't share a room with her, I might actually think she was adorable.

The shoyru glanced over his shoulder, uncertain.

There was a loud sigh from inside the room, and then Harry was shoving him aside and folding his arms pointedly.

"Violet," He acknowledged, turning to look at me, "Chevalier," He switched his attention back to my room-mate. "What do you want?"

"Brynn's pen." She replied bluntly. Any sweetness she had when talking to the shoyru was now, most definitely, gone. "You took it."

He smirked. "Did I know?"

She nodded, nudging me forwards. "Go on, Brynn. Say what happened."

"He took my pen!" I retorted. "What's there left to say?"

Harry's shoyru room-mate disappeared inside their dorm and came back a few seconds later, my pen in his hand. "Is this it?" He asked me.

I nodded and he started to hand it to me, but Harry swiped it out of his grip before it made it even close to my paw. "_Dylan_! You _idiot_!"

"Sor_ry_, Princess," The shoyru, Dylan, mumbled, grinning at me and Violet. I stifled a snicker. "Now would you _please_ give the lady her pen back?"

"Why should I?" He challenged.

Dylan struggled for an answer. "Because… It's a good… Idea…?" Harry snorted.

"Because it makes you a thief." I pointed out. "So we'd have to arrest you."

"Ooh, that sounds like _fun_!" Violet cackled gleefully.

Harry paled, thrusting my pen into my hands before I had chance to fully acknowledge it. "There. Take your stupid pen." He stormed back into his dorm.

Dylan sighed, raised a hand to his head, and he must've realised the mess his hair was in because he hurriedly tried to straighten it out.

"Consider yourself in my debt." Violet told me pointedly, scurrying off down the corridor and, presumably, back to the girls' side of the Training Guard complex.

"Thank you." I said to Dylan. It's polite; he's the one who gave me back my pen, and Mum always said to thank people when they help you out. Apparently, Violet's mother did no such thing because she was very quick to scarper.

He grinned, holding out a hand for me to shake. "Pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss…" He paused, looked at me expectantly.

"Chevalier," I responded, taking his hand and lifting it up and down a few times before releasing it. "Brynneth Chevalier."

"Now, if you don't mind, Miss Brynneth Chevalier, there is a bed behind me and it is calling my name."

I laughed, looking over my shoulder. My laugh died in my throat.

"Are you alright?" Dylan asked, any teasing jokes in his voice gone.

I heard a groan from behind him, presumably Harry; "Leave the poor girl _alone_, Dylan. I'm sure she can look after herself."

"I don't know the way back…" I admitted sheepishly.

Dylan smiled warmly. "It's nothing to worry about; this is a big place. I was getting lost all the time when I was younger. Wait _here_. I'll be back in a moment, I swear."

He shut the door.

I stood, waiting, for _ages_. Just when I was contemplating whether or not running off and getting lost was a better plan (it'd certainly be far less boring), Dylan opened the door again, this time wearing a t-shirt and a pair of jeans, even if his hair still looked slightly messier on one side than the other.

"Come on." He said, setting off down the corridor. I hurried after him.

* * *

Dylan took me to the bottom of the staircase, leading up to the girls' dormitories, and stopped there.

"You and Violet are far braver souls than I am." He explained. "I am _not_ going into the girls' corridor. Ever." He laughed to himself. "Now, I have that date, with my bed. Wouldn't wanna miss it."

I grinned. "Goodnight."

"Night, Miss Brynneth Chevalier."

He seems nice. Much nicer than Harry.

Week 4

Today, we got letters from home. Everybody had at least one- some kids, with a lot of siblings, had more. Violet's was from yet _another_ of her cousins. This one was a boy, who she said was called Harlequin, but he insists on being called 'Harley' instead.

It read:

"_Dear Baby Cousin (I know there's Hazel, but you'll always be my baby cousin),_

_Ha! You just lost the Game!_

_Love and hugs and kisses (yucky),_

_Harley"_

When she read it, she shouted out in frustration so loudly that our whole class turned to face her. Her cheeks went red with embarrassment, but she carried on scanning her letter as though she hadn't noticed.

I asked her later. Apparently 'the Game' is some really confusing thing:

"You can't talk about the Game, think about the Game, or anything." She explained. "And everyone is _always_ playing the Game."

"It sounds complicated." I voiced.

She snorted. "Not really. Not once you get it."

Of course, I had a letter that wasn't anywhere near as cryptic as Violet's. It was from Mum, and my brain automatically read it in her voice. It made me smile:

_"Dear Brynn,_

_I'm so proud of you- three months in and you haven't come running back home again once. Part of me is a little hurt, I'll admit, but don't let me hold you back._

_How's your sword practice coming along? I know you've always wanted to use one. Are you any good? And do they teach you any other weapons, too?_

_Sorry, sorry. I'm just curious. I want to know what the Guard's like, because it's to be your home for the foreseeable future, and the thought of it being terrible is very upsetting for me. That's not to say you should lie on my behalf. If it is terrible, I can pull you out. We can save up, and move to Meridell; they have a Guard too, don't they?_

_There I go again; more questions. Ignore that last one, I'll look it up myself at the library after I've posted this._

_I have four lines left on this piece of paper, and damn it I will use them all! Um… Have you made any friends? Say 'hello' to them for me. And if they hurt you, I will hunt them down, one by one…_

_Two lines left! Er… Love you!_

_Mum"_

I haven't written a response yet. I was planning on doing it after I'd finished this entry, but I'm just so tired. We did an agility course in training today, and I literally ache from head to toe. Lying down would be such a wonderful luxury right now, but I have to write in this diary by the window because it's past curfew, so we can't put the lights on; I have to use the sunset to see by.

Mind you, that bed is looking really friendly right now…

I'm going to finish up now and go lie down. Fyora knows I need it.


	4. The Month of Eating- First Year

**Week 1 may be a little confusing. But hey, it's April Fools', he had to do _something_.**

* * *

The Month of Eating (April) age 7

Week 1

**What do girls _put_ in these things? I think I'll just flick through the last few entries; that should explain the basic concept…**

**Woah… She _really_ doesn't like me, does she? In that case, I shall start by addressing the matter, like the proper gentleman that I am: I don't really like you either, Chevalier.**

**There. Now that that's sorted, it looks like I have to explain my day… Right? Urgh, why would anyone keep one of these things? So damn laborious.**

**Today, we did gym; where you take off your shoes and balance on beams, roll across mats, that sort of thing. I don't think they do that with the newbies, Chevalier, but you'll get to it.**

**Anyway, I'm pretty good at gym. It's not that hard, for someone so, uh, _graceful_, as myself. However, **_**someone**_** (not naming any- actually, I think I shall; It was Dylan.) decided it was a good idea to tell Sam that I have ticklish feet.**

**Result? Sam crept up on me whilst I was doing push-ups, and tickled the soles of my feet. Consequently, I practically face-planted against the floor (now, Chevalier, I'm sure you've been in the gym hall- you know how hard the floor is).**

**Unexpected result: Theresa had to take me to the medical room, being that after Sam The Evil Feet-Tickler, she was nearest. Oh, the look on Sam's face was priceless. He _so_ fancies her. I will have fun with this. Lots and lots of fun.**

**You know, Chevalier, it's just occurred to me that you have _no_ idea who these people are. I could tell you that they were both faerie princesses from a magical kingdom in the clouds but, well, that's not exactly fair on poor Sammy-kins, is it?**

**He would be the queen of the faeries, not the princess.**

**He's a lot like you, actually; red-brown hair, very annoying, easy to wind up… Hmm… Now I think about these things, it's actually rather scary.**

**Well, I think it's fair to say that I've most definitely won the April Fools' Day competition. Not that there was one, but whatever.**

**You may, you know, bow down to me, or kiss the ground by my feet, or whatever you feel like doing to demonstrate I won and you did not.**

**Fyora, now Dylan's trying to see what I'm writing! Why did you have to cover this thing in girly swirls, Chevalier? Seriously, he is going to question this. I have a reputation to uphold here!**

**You know, this diary lark isn't half as bad as I thought it was going to be when I first started. It's like writing a letter, only to a notebook. Or, in a way, to you, Chevalier.**

**I _know_ you're going to read this when you get this back. It's just how you roll.**

**Just don't you _dare _show Violet. I will never hear the end of it. Between her and her cousins and Ebony, there would be so much… _Urgh_. Just don't put me through the hassle, okay?**

**See? I'm trusting you with something, in return for your inadvertently trusting me with your precious diary. You should probably hide it better, by the way. Under the pillow is so cliché.**

**So, um, yeah… How do you end this? I'll go look at your other entries...**

**Looks like you just leave when you find a good cut off point, huh, Chevalier? Okay, that's not going to settle well in my mind. Seriously, it will keep me up if I don't sign off properly. You can probably blame my mother for that: "Henry, if you don't sign off your letters properly, then the monsters will climb in through the window during the night and eat your eyeballs."**

**It's not that I was a gullible child, it's just that Mother's so good at telling stories, it's like they're… Not stories.**

**Harry**

**P.S. Have just gone to my underwear drawer to find in empty. Seriously, Chevalier, you'd better hope that wasn't you.**

**Man, that is just _creepy_.**

* * *

_Heeheehee, you're welcome, Buddy._

_Hello, 'Chevalier'. That is an interesting name. Is that a surname? Or a first name? Oh, the mystery of-_

_Yeah, I'll have to cut that off here. Theresa's giving me 'the scary look'. Seriously, she has this glare, and literally, it's like in the stories; you half expect spiders to start crawling out of her ears, and her hair to turn into snakes, and everything. She. Is. Scary._

_Very pretty, don't get me wrong. Just also scary. Like… Like... I'll think of something…_

_Jeez, she's nagging now. I'd best wrap this up._

_We found this in Harry's dorm whilst returning his underwear (which we hid, by the way. In the gardens.) and figured that, unless he'd changed his name to 'Brynn' and his age to 7, it wasn't his._

'_Course, Dylan co-operates with us. We have an understanding with Dylan. He's a nice guy, unlike his patrol partner. He told us you were Violet's room-mate, and of course we know where Miss Adonai's dorm is._

_Woah. That sounded really creepy. I didn't mean it like that. I just…_

_She's giving me that look again…_

* * *

Okay, I've got the notebook. Reading Sammy's comment through, he's been rambling rather a lot. And yes. Yes, I am rather pretty. You can imagine me thusly.

We know the whereabouts of Miss Adonai's dormitory because we're _very_ observant. She's been acquainted with Mr. Windsor for most of her life, we feared she'd be like him. Thankfully, it does not seem so.

Sammy says to put that you're doing a good job at keeping her under wraps. I can't say it looks that hard, myself; she's hardly a psychopathic mass murderer liable to sneak out in the night and stab everyone she comes into contact with.

Mind you, you two are still young; we can change that.

It's a shame you can't see the expression that put on Sam's face. He was reading over my shoulder, he isn't now. Now he is standing, facing the wall, thinking about why it is wrong to read over my shoulder. Mmm, _power_.

Stay safe, Kiddo. Sorry about the fact that three random people have written in your diary before it got back to you. But, you know, life sucks and then you die. Cheerful message to live by.

~Theresa~

* * *

Well, that was… _Interesting_, to say the least.

Mind you, at least I have a rough idea of who Sam and Theresa are, now. They seem… Strange… But a nice sort of strange, I think. Still, I can hardly judge on a note they wrote to me in my stolen diary.

Speaking of which, I think I _will_ show Violet what Harry wrote, just to be annoying. And then I will start planning revenge attacks.

This will be fun.

Week 2

_Operation: Prank Harry Back_ was ago. Violet and I decided early on that stealing his underwear was a no-no.

"Though I hold it to these 'Sam and Theresa' people," My room-mate commented, "That was _good_."

I tapped my pen against the desk. I was sitting in the chair, Violet on top of the desk, to one side of it, so that she wasn't in the way of the piece of paper on which we were plotting.

"It says you've known him a long time." I pushed the matter over to her. "Surely you know _something_ useful?"

She shook her head, making the two bunches she'd pulled her hair into for today bop up and down. "Nope."

"We could…" I think. "Put custard in his boots, or something."

"Too messy." Violet dismissed.

I tapped my pen against the desk again, somewhat impatiently. "I know how to make itching powder with rosehips."

"So do I." She replied casually. "So does Harry."

The look I shot her must've summed up my confusion, because she grinned cheekily and expanded on it.

"Two summers ago, Banana taught Harley. And Harley taught Ivy, and Ivy taught Ebony, and Ebony taught Harry. And I sort of… Figured it out. They overlooked me a lot, because I was the youngest. But that never meant I was _stupid_; I realised it had something to do with the strange red berries they were all picking so often, and I spied on my brother once or twice, and I figured it out. And then I got them _all_ back." She nodded her head once, proudly, before a mischievous grin crept across her face. "They don't underestimate me so much now."

It was a little weird, looking back on it. Firstly, the fact I remembered all that. And secondly, Violet always seems so happy when talking about her family back home. Today, she seemed almost bitter, and defiant, and it was weird. Maybe she has more of a backbone than she lets on.

Anyway, that meant itching powder was out; Harry seems like the sort who'd check his bed every night for the stuff, if this 'Violet attack' was truly so bad as she made it sound.

"He's also scared of ukalis." She added, almost like an afterthought. "Not that _that's_ very useful."

My jaw dropped. "Violet, you are an actual genius."

"Well, I don't like to brag… Hold on, what?"

But I was already fishing my snorkle bank out from under my bed and tipping the contents out onto the duvet. "5,000 neopoints."

"_Shopping_!" She squealed, catching onto at least _part_ of my meaning. Diving under her own bed, she re-emerged with a very, very pink handbag. "Everything else we'll need is in here."

"Violet, we're just going to buy a ukali…"

"Those things are _expensive_, Brynn!" She insisted. "Well… Probably… I don't know; I've never bought one. But Crispie Manzana had one; she'd take it for walks, too. Scared the living daylights out of Harry; he'd dive into hedges, just to escape it. It was the _funniest_."

"_Just_ the ukali." I repeated, slower this time. "You won't need your whole handbag."

She nodded. "I will." A grin lit up her face, and I felt my heart sink. "We're going into Brightvale; we _have_ to go visit the other shops. You can't just go to _one_."

Why do I bother, notebook? Why do I actually bother?

* * *

The man selling petpets was a shady sort, said his sister runs the petpet shop in Meridell. I was a bit suspicious, but Violet pointed out that he was the only petpet seller in sight.

"Besides," She whispered in my ear as we approached. "We'll be giving the thing a better home, right?"

In truth, I wasn't sure what was going to become of 'the thing' once we'd pranked Harry back, but I didn't voice that fear.

"'Ow may I 'elp you two?" The man asked, tipping his top hat, as we neared.

Thank Fyora we weren't wearing our uniforms, otherwise I think he'd have gone running. "We'd like to buy a ukali, please."

"Are ya sure?" He asked, glancing between me and Violet. "Little girls, such as yaselves, tend to prefer more… Pretty petpets, in my experience."

"_You_, Sir," Violet growled, "Should learn not to generalise people so much."

He swallowed; she can be quite scary, I'll admit. "Right. One ukali." He ducked, and pulled out this dusty old cage containing a terrified ukali, cowering in the corner. "Careful; it bites." He grinned somewhat menacingly. "Probably."

Violet rolled her eyes, handing him some money out of her bag. I started to protest, but she held up a hand. "It's okay. I got it."

The man slid the door of the cage open, and she reached inside, scooping the terrified lizard-thing up and cradling it against her chest. Then, she walked off with it.

"Thank you." I said to the man because, shady or not, he just sold us the petpet we wanted.

* * *

From the board at the entrance to the Guard Training Base, we learnt that Harry and Dylan's class are in the hall training from two to five on a Thursday. Luckily, we got back at half three.

We snuck into their dorm, and tucked the ukali up in the bed Violet assured me _had_ to be Harry's because 'it's way tidier than the other one'. Apparently, he can't stand to have a messy room. Therefore, his bed is the spotlessly clear one, without creases in the quilt.

"Stay there." She told the creature tentatively as we left. It watched us with wide brown eyes. "Good boy." And then the door was shut, and we'd better hope the thing can behave itself.

We haven't heard anything yet, so- Hold on, knock at the door.

* * *

Harry just came in and practically tossed the ukali at Violet.

"I hate you, Adonai." He growled. "I really do."

"Hello to you, too." She smiled sweetly, having caught the petpet effortlessly as she sat their cradling it like a baby. "I see you've met Toothy?"

"It's a fitting name." Harry grumbled. "I should know; I sat on the blighter." And then he left.

Violet made eye contact with me across the dorm and grinned before turning to coo over 'Toothy'. "Good boy. Biting nasty Harry. _Good_ boy."

I think I might like this petpet.

Week 3

Someone pushed a note under our door this morning. Toothy dived at it, and looked like he might've ripped it shreds had Violet not managed to wrestle it off of him as quickly as she had.

She read it first, and there were tears in her eyes when she passed it to me. Almost immediately after doing so, she scooped Toothy up onto her lap and started stroking his head, staring off into space.

"_Hey, girls,_

_Figured I'd let you know that petpets aren't allowed in the Guard. Training means you'd hardly have time to look after them, and even if you managed to get round that, what's to stop them making a mess of the place?_

_Do what you will with this information,_

_Dylan_

_P.S. I've asked Sam to deliver this because… I'm not going to the girls' dormitories, and he has no qualms with it. So if there's any weird drawings on the front of this envelope, it's probably him. He has a tendency to do that."_

It's true, there was a strange picture of a pie on the front of the envelope for no apparent reason.

"We're _not_ getting rid of him." Violet said adamantly as I set the letter aside. "I refuse to."

"Then what else are we going to do?" I asked her. "Dylan's right; he's going to destroy our dorm soon enough. And people are going to start questioning why you keep going out for 'walks' in the middle of the night." My eyes widened. "What if you're caught on one of your 'walks'?"

She sighed. "I will stuff Toothy up my nightdress, if need be. He stays."

"That can't be comfortable."

Violet shrugged. "I'm willing to endure it if it means I can keep him."

"But you'll get us _both_ in trouble." I grumbled.

Still, she would not be swayed, no matter what I said. She's grown to love the 'thing', which is a pain. I mean, I like him, don't get me wrong, and I'll be sad if we have to get rid of him, but Violet… She positively _adores_ him. Losing him would break her heart, I think.

* * *

When we got back from training, our dorm was a mess. The stuffing had been ripped out of Violet's pillow, the papers that had been on the desk where strewn across the floor, my duvet was _under_ my bed, and Toothy had made himself some sort of nest in the corner using a combination of pillow stuffing, torn up recycling, and washing from the basket by the door.

Violet tried scolding him, but all he needed to do was rub his head against her leg and she melted all over him once again. The 'thing' has her wrapped round his little claw.

Still, I pointed out that we had to get the place tidy, and so we spent two and a half hours straightening it out: stuffing the feathers back into Violet's pillow, gathering the papers back into their piles on the desk, wrestling with my duvet.

I'm starting to think Toothy's more trouble than he's worth.

Week 4

It was uncertainly that we went to training this morning, considering what Toothy's like. But the last few days, he's actually been pretty well-behaved, so Violet managed to persuade me that he'd last the few hours alone.

I didn't really agree with her, but didn't exactly have much choice. I had to get to training.

It's just as well I did insist we go, because it was a pretty important session. We had our wooden swords, and we were partnered up (luckily, I was _not_ with Luke this time round), then just told to fight 'in whatever way felt natural'.

"Though be sensible." Mr. Lockwood quickly added. "I don't want you to _actually_ injure each-other." He looked pointedly at Luke, who just glared defiantly back at him.

I was paired up with a cybunny called Rebecca. Before we started, she smiled and said, "I'm not very good."

"I'm sure you are." I replied.

But she shook her head adamantly, making her ears bounce around and her ponytail swish. "Nope."

Turns out, she's _very_ good. We were evenly matched the whole way through, and our fighting styles are actually very similar. I wondered for a moment whether that meant we'd be partnered up for our patrols, but then I have no idea how this works. Harry and Dylan are practically polar opposites; they can't have been paired up on the grounds that they're similar.

Unless their fighting styles are similar? I've not seen them fight.

I don't know. Afterwards, though, Rebecca was all smiles; especially when I assured her that she's about on the same level as me.

"So we're both either really bad," I explained, "Or okay."

She laughed. "It's better, when you're not the only one."

Violet's usually one of the first to take her armour off and scarper, so I didn't bother looking around for her once I'd finished. As usual, she'd left before me, though she hadn't got any further than the door. Instead, she stood to one side of it, and grabbed my arm as I went past.

"Hello…" I said cautiously.

She smiled innocently. "If Toothy's trashed our dorm again-"

I groaned, and she just giggled.

However, Toothy _had_ trashed our dorm again. This time, he'd attacked my pillow, and it was so obliterated that there wasn't really much of a case left, and so many white feathers that it looked like it had snowed. _Inside_ our dormitory.

"How are we going to explain this one to Mr. Lockwood?" I asked Violet, holding up the shredded remains of my pillowcase. "He's not going to give me a new one unless we tell him what happened."

Violet, however, scooped Toothy up and smiled weakly. "We'll get this tidied, and then we'll think of something.

So the wardrobe in the corner, which doesn't house much in the way of clothes- both of us left the majority of that sort of stuff back home- became a feather cupboard. We gathered up as much of the fluffy white filling as we could and locked it away inside it. By the time we'd finished, only a few feathers remained dotted around the floor, but they were hardly enough to be conspicuous.

Without a pillow, I've had to practically cocoon myself in my duvet, including wrap it round my head. It's really strange, and difficult to write in, but it's also very warm.

Though if I'm still having to sleep like this come summer time, I think I might be boiled in my sleep.


	5. The Month of Hunting- First Year

**Sorry it's been so long! I was attacked by various ideas for _Lord of the Flies_ fanfictions, and plus there's my original story, too. But I'm here, and I haven't abandoned this, don't worry!**

* * *

The Month of Hunting (May) age 7

Week 1

Today, two girls in our age bracket, a zafara and an ixi named Sophia and Lola respectively, arrived late to training. However, unlike when me and Violet showed up late, Mr. Lockwood didn't get particularly angry with them.

Instead, he used them as an example for a very terrifying thing that will, apparently, be ensuring that we're all late a morning over the next few weeks.

"Every so often," He explained, "The Guard like to do spot checks on the dormitories to ensure that people are keeping them clean, tidy, and respecting the rules."

I glanced at Violet out the corner of my eye. She seemed to grin at me, just for a moment, but if so it was so swiftly gone that it barely registered.

"I'm _sure_ you're all sticking to the rules." Mr. Lockwood continued. "No food in the dormitories; no pets; laundry is to be folded and taken down to the laundry room at least every three days." We all nodded solemnly. "You have nothing to worry about. It wasn't so bad; right, girls?"

Sophia glanced at Lola, who shook her head. "Not at all."

Training went on as normal, though I'm petrified of our 'spot check', which is sure to come up soon. If they don't spot Toothy, they're bound to find the mess he's left.

Week 2

Toothy was a little restless today, by which I mean I woke up to find he'd shredded one of the curtains.

"Brynn," Violet said, already awake and raking a brush through her dark hair. "Get some more curtains."

"Where from?" I asked, unrolling myself from my duvet (I still don't have a pillow!) and heading over to our shared wardrobe beside the window.

She shrugged. "The market? I don't know. You'll think of something."

Having taken a t-shirt and a pair of grey trousers out, I slammed the wardrobe shut and raised an eyebrow at my room-mate. "What's stopping _you_ from doing it?"

"I'm going to take Toothy for a walk!" The ukali perked up at the sound of his name, abandoning the ex-tissue Violet had apparently given him to shred.

"You're joking."

"Nope. He needs to burn off energy. When my little sister went hyper, Mum used to make me and Ebony take her to the park. She'd run around until she was _so_ tired that we had to carry her home again." She looked over her shoulder at me and grinned. "Don't worry; I'll be careful, _mother_."

"What if someone catches you?" I pressed. "They'd be sure to tell on you, and then we're _both_ for it."

"Don't be such a spoilsport!" She grumbled, replacing her hairbrush on the desk and pushing me out of the way so that she could access the wardrobe. "I'll be _fine_. Just concentrate on curtain shopping."

Huffing at her, I changed out of my pyjamas and into the clothes I'd retrieved from the wardrobe. Ten minutes later, I was sitting on my bed, fiddling with the laces of my boots.

Violet had tied her hair in a high, swishy ponytail, and picked out a cream-coloured dress that she would not get away with wearing on a training day. The skirt reached her ankles; she'd definitely trip if forced to run in it!

"You don't have a lead for him." I pointed out, finishing up with my right shoe and moving to lace up my left. "He's going to bolt for it if you take him out."

She raised a hand, telling me to be quiet, and picked up the basket of hair accessories she keeps on our desk. Rummaging around in it, she eventually pulled out a long crimson ribbon. "Ta da!"

Replacing the basket on the desk, she pulled out a hair scrunchie and tied one end of the ribbon around it, fashioning a makeshift lead-and-collar combo.

If I tried to put such a contraption on Toothy, I think he'd snarl at me and run for it. Violet, however, has made good friends with the little monster, and so managed to slip the 'collar' over his head.

"Sorted." She announced proudly, standing up and wrapping the other end of the ribbon around her hand a few times so she couldn't accidentally drop it. She turned to face me and glared sternly. "When I get back, I expect curtains."

"Yes, _mother_." I mimicked her tone from earlier. Rolling her eyes at me, she scooped the ukali up and, after a bit of contemplation, shoved him in her handbag.

"You can come out when we're a good distance away." She promised him, closing the bag as much as she probably could without the fear of suffocating and turning to face me. "I've left some money on the desk. Should be enough."

"Thanks." I said because, annoying as the fact that I had to go shopping for curtains was, I'm a polite little kougra really.

Money in hand, I headed out of the training base and into the courtyard. It was fairly warm today, for the Month of Hunting, though there was a cold breeze that prevented it from being hot.

As I walked up to the gate, someone blocked my path.

"And _where_ do you think you're going?"

"Uh…" I struggled to formulate an answer that wasn't going to get me in trouble. The guard who'd blocked my path, a muscular red skeith who looked like he could probably tear my head off if he so wished, was very intimidating.

"It's okay, Edmund," A kyrii with _very_ red hair said, breezing through the gate. "She's with us." The eyrie following him let out a frustrated sigh, but said nothing.

"Are you sure?" The skeith, Edmund, asked sceptically. "I didn't think they started the mentoring thing for a long while yet. And even then, you usually get two of them."

The kyrii leant his elbow on my head, like I was an armrest. I shook him off and took a step to the side, away from him.

"She's a… _Friend_… Of my… Mother's… Friend's… Daughter's… Cousin!" The kyrii decided.

I'd like to take this opportunity to state that this kid was a complete and utter stranger and I had _no_ idea who he was.

Edmund raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, I'm not buying it, Sam. Sorry."

_Sam! He's the kid who stole my diary back from Harry…_ I kept my mouth shut, interested in how this would play out.

"But _Edmund_," Sam whined. "What about my mum's friend's daughter's cousin?"

Edmund sighed tiredly.

The eyrie shoved Sam out of the way, so that it was she who stood directly in front of Edmund, and batted her eyelashes. "Please, Edmund. I'll have to put up with his constant whining for our whole patrol otherwise."

"Sorry, Theresa, but I-"

"_Please_?" The girl, Theresa (who _also_ stole my diary!), pleaded, batting her eyelashes even more and flicking her hair (quite extraordinary; blonde with purple highlights) over her shoulder. "Please, please, please, please, _please_?"

Edmund sighed again, only this time with defeat. "_Fine_."

She grinned. "Thanks!" And then she hurried off.

Cautiously, I stepped around Edmund. Sam, having waited for me, took my wrist and led me off in the direction Theresa had headed.

"The things I do for you, Sam." She grumbled once we'd caught up with her. "If you were _anyone_ else, I would've just stood back and laughed."

"Awww," Sam cooed. "I'm special."

She glared at him and folded her arms, though she didn't say anything.

He seemed to count this as a victory, as his smile widened. Turning to face me, he released my wrist and stopped walking. When I carried on, he reached out, grabbed my shoulder, pulled me back a few steps, and held me in place.

He knelt down in front of me and, eyes narrowed, he looked me over like he was about to buy me or something.

"Now," He instructed. "Say 'ah'."

"No." I folded my arms. "I still don't know who you are." I know what you're thinking, Diary, but knowing his name doesn't mean I know what he's like. "You're wearing the Guard uniform, but that doesn't mean I have to trust you."

Smiling, he ruffled my hair and looked over at Theresa, who'd stopped walking a little further ahead of us.

"I like her!" He announced.

She rolled her eyes. "Good. Now, let her get on with her business so that we can get this patrol finished, and get home. I need a shower."

"You look fine, Ther-"

"I _need_ a shower!" She yelled, cutting him off. Then, she stalked off.

"Fine!" Sam shouted after her. "Just… Just _abandon_ me, why don't you!"

"Great idea!" She yelled over her shoulder, her voice dripping with sarcasm, as she continued to walk down the street. "Makes me wonder why_ I_ didn't think of it!"

Sighing, Sam turned back round to face me. "How old are you?"

"Seven." I replied. I couldn't see much harm to be had with knowing my _age_.

"I don't think I could handle letting you walk around out here alone." He explained.

I rolled my eyes. "I'll be fine."

"Are you armed?"

"No…"

"So what if you're ambushed?"

"By who?"

"Anybody!" He replied vaguely, sounding rather exasperated. And I thought_ I_ had an overactive imagination. "What do you do?"

"Um… Scream?" I suggest. "Run away?"

If he heard my answer, he didn't acknowledge it. Reaching into the pouch on his belt (part of the uniform in the next age bracket up), he retrieved a penknife and handed it to me.

"What's this for?" I asked.

"In case you're ambushed." He explained. "Don't worry about giving it back; I have a whole set back in my dorm!" At that, he stood up and sprinted off in the direction his patrol partner had headed.

"Thank you!" I shouted after him.

The penknife fit perfectly into the belt loop on my trousers, and my slightly-too-big t-shirt hid it from view completely.

* * *

I couldn't find a curtain stand at the market, not that I really expected to. I _did_, however, find a nice lady selling pieces of fabric. One of them, a green and white striped one, seemed very similar to the curtain we had still hanging. So I opted to go for buying that.

"That's quite a lot." She said when I demonstrated how large a piece I wanted. "What is someone so small planning to do with all that fabric?"

"Make a tent…" I lied. I am a terrible liar.

She bought it, though, grinning. "Sounds like good fun."

* * *

I got back to find Violet already had. Toothy, as she'd predicted he would be, had curled up at the foot of her bed, sound asleep. His 'lead' lay on the desk.

"Told you." Violet boasted smugly, though quietly so as not to wake him up.

Together, we put up the pair of curtains. We bickered, though fairly quietly so that we didn't wake up the sleeping petpet, but we got the job done.

Week 3

Today was not a good day. Not at all.

We woke up to find that Toothy had, once again, had a one-man (uh, ukali) party in the middle of the night, shredding the new curtain, half of Violet's duvet, and one of my boots.

"Oh dear…" I whispered to myself, looking across the room at Violet. She sat up in her bed and looked at me anxiously.

There was a knock at the door, and a voice called out "Spot check! Are you two dressed?"

"Oh _dear_..." Violet mumbled, throwing her duvet off and scooping Toothy up.

"Not yet!" I called out. "Hold on!"

"You have five minutes." The person on the other side of the door stated.

I threw my duvet off and dashed for the wardrobe. Within seconds, I'd changed out of my pyjamas and into my uniform (it gets easier the more you have to wear it).

Grabbing my boots- one chewed, one fine- I shoved them both under the bed. Violet had hidden Toothy in her handbag, and was proceeding to roll her duvet in an attempt to hide the damage.

"Violet," I whispered, "You need to get dressed, or else he'll be suspicious."

She hesitated for a moment before pushing past me, hurriedly changing into her own uniform.

"I'm coming." The person outside called out.

My eyes trailed over the shredded curtain. I looked over at Violet, who stared back at me, her own eyes wide.

"What the _hell_ has happened in here?" Our 'spot checker', an intimidating kacheek I would later learn to call 'Sir Cull', asked.

I shuffled back a few steps, so that I stood beside Violet. We both stared at the floor.

"What in Neopia have you done to the curtain?" Sir Cull continued, kicking a cloud of white up from the floor. "And where did all this stuffing come from?"

"Sorry, Sir," I mumbled, on behalf of myself and Violet.

He glared at us. "Come with me. Now."

* * *

We had to sit in Mr. Lockwood's office for the duration of training. Sir Cull stood outside, having promised there would be consequences if we tried to run, so Violet and I sat in the chairs we were told to without argument.

After training, Mr. Lockwood entered with a face like thunder. I presume Sir Cull must've told him what happened just as he reached the door, as he knew what we'd done and seemingly hadn't had chance to calm down yet.

"Sir Cull says he found a petpet in your dormitory." Mr. Lockwood almost whispered.

Both Violet and I nodded meekly.

"You _know_ that's against the rules!" He apparently decided to throw calm out the window. "And now, can you see why? The Guard now have to find the resources to buy a new set of curtains, a new pillow, a new duvet, and a new shoe for Brynn. Money does _not_ grow on trees!"

I didn't feel it was the right time to correct him. I mean, there is, apparently, a Money Tree all the way in Neopia Central.

"For now, you can sleep in your destroyed dormitory." Mr. Lockwood decided. "Your ukali can stay with me; I'll call the pound and see if it'll be acceptable for me to take him there soon."

"No!" Violet shouted.

"What else am I supposed to do?" Our teacher snapped. "You two _will_ be punished. I'll be in touch when I've thought of something beastly enough." He waved a hand in the direction of the door. "Dismissed."

We couldn't get out of there fast enough.

Week 4

It seems that Mr. Lockwood takes a while to think up punishments, and that is part of the torture. A week after we were caught, just when I was started to think he'd forgotten, we receive a note saying to go into the courtyard.

Sir Cull stood there with a class of older students; perhaps the last age bracket before fully fledged Guards?

"Excellent!" He grinned upon catching sight of Violet and I approaching. He turned, picked up two wooden boards with bullseyes painted onto them in peeling paint, and handed them to us- one each. "Students, ready your bows."

Not fun. Not fun, at all.


End file.
